


The Ghost of a Touch

by Tani



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Naruto
Genre: F/F, Pre-Femslash, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tani/pseuds/Tani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione awoke to the sound of her wards screaming in her ears and the sight of a fight raging around her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of a Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Dreamwidth community no_true_pair, for the prompt "Hermione and Hinata 'The enemy of my enemy....'". It is unbetaed, and could definitely use some constructive criticism. However, all feedback is welcomed with open arms.

Hermione awoke to the sound of her wards screaming in her ears and the sight of a fight raging around her. Cursing, she rolled to a crouch and dismissed the wards. Made only for warning, they provided no actual protection, making them nothing more than an annoyance when the action was on. And oh, Merlin, was the action on now. Back in England, the idea of studying ninja had sounded like a fascinating endeavor. She had been right; it was fascinating, but it was also dangerous and frightening, and there were days she questioned her own sanity for being in this crazy place.

A fire jutsu flashed against a nearby rock, close enough that she could feel the heat, and she cursed again. Naturalistic observation might be very well and good in theory, but the reality was that she needed to get out of there, and quickly.

Unfortunately, it appeared that what had sprung up around her in her sleep was more than just a minor spat; this was a skirmish with pretensions on a battle. She was surrounded by fighting, and no matter which way she turned, she could see no easy way out. The fire-wielder was somewhere off to her right, splashing indiscriminate blasts of fire around in a way that made it a wonder that the entire forest hadn't caught fire. To her left, there was screaming. Not the screams of rage and battlelust that most battles seemed to inspire on this continent, mind you, but screams of pain and horror. She had no desire to see what might be causing those screams.

Thankfully, the front and back were only populated by your average, run-of-the-mill hand-to-hand combat. Seeing no particular differences in either direction, she started forward, crouching low to the ground in the hopes of minimizing herself as a potential target and clutching her wand in her sweaty hand. Moving as quickly as she could manage still only made for slow progress, though. The field was thick was fighting, and she couldn't help but wonder just what she had gotten involved in now. She hadn't seen fighting on this scale since the more major battles against the Deatheaters, in Voldemort's heyday.

Suddenly, the fighting in front of her cleared slightly, and she stumbled to a stop, nervous and uncertain over what could have caused such a break. Then she saw her, and wasn't uncertain anymore.

It was a girl, maybe her age, maybe younger. At another time, Hermione might have described her as delicate, but at this particular moment there was very little that was delicate about her. She was poised in a battle stance in the center of a circle of enemies, the calm of a very violent storm. The men surrounding her circled warily, looking for whatever opportunity appeared before darting forward for the kill. Only the kill never came, for no matter where they attacked from, the girl blocked with preternatural grace, almost as if her strange silver eyes could see everything within a 360 degree radius.

Despite the surrounding battle, Hermione found herself staring with fascination. It must be a bloodline limit, she thought. Something she'd been born with, not something that she'd worked to acquire. Nothing to be so impressed over. Simple genetics, really. Except, and this was the Muggle in her, there was something so magical about it, the way the girl would move and the enemy would fall back. Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen anyone so calm and composed in the face of danger. It was enough to make her feel like perhaps there wasn't any danger at all. This girl – no, this woman – could handle anything the world threw at her.

Except she couldn't, Hermione realized a second later, as the woman stumbled under an attack. Shaking the coating of awe from her eyes, she suddenly realized that all the signs were there. Even though she turned back this attack, and then the next one, now Hermione could see the way that her eyes were darting more than they needed to, as though looking for an escape route. Even more, she could see the slight hesitance in her movements, and the growing confidence of her attackers.

Hermione instinctively raised her wand, intending to hex the nearest attacker into next week and hopefully create an opening that would allow the woman to escape. An instant later, her training forced her to lower it. The first rule of anthropology was not to get involved. She was an observer. She had no right to interfere in the flow of events. If this woman was going to be defeated here, that wasn't Hermione's problem. That was just life.

But what if she was going to die? The thought sent a cold shudder through Hermione. Could she stand by and simply watch as this beauty was taken from the world?

No, she couldn't, she decided, raising her wand once again, this time with full knowledge of the consequences of her actions. Taking a deep breath, she cried, "Petrificus totalis!" then as several of the still-standing enemy turned toward her, "Impedimenta!" The hit ninja slowed gratifyingly, but the unimpeded ninja still vastly outnumbered the impeded, and it was quickly becoming clear to her that she hadn't thought this through as thoroughly as she might have. No matter how accomplished she was in magic, her magic simply wasn't designed for situations like this, whereas the jutsu that the ninja used...well, this was what they were for. Heart thundering in her chest, she shouted, "Protego!" just in time to deflect several projectiles and one fireball that had been sent in her direction.

She adjusted her sweaty grip on her wand and threw a few more hexes, although they were less effective now that the ninja weren't caught by surprise. Several times, just as she was congratulating herself on a good hit, the ninja in question would simply form a seal, mutter a word, and be back to fighting form. The opening that she had created around the strange woman was rapidly closing, and Hermione had the feeling that if she allowed it to close entirely, it would never open again. Feeling desperate, she shouted, "Run!" The woman's head bobbed slightly, but Hermione couldn't tell if it was acknowledgment, or a simple response to the flow of the battle. A second later, she was too busy keeping herself alive to worry about anyone else.

The ninja quickly realized that on the battlefield, her spells, which only moved in a straight line, were easily dodged and next to useless. She still managed to get a few of them with assorted curses, but it was more a matter of quantity than quality. The enemy was multiplying so quickly that they occasionally interfered with each other to the point of preventing their allies from dodging. These lucky shots did little to actually lessen the flow of angry ninja coming toward her. In fact, they seemed to be increasing it, rather like killing one bee only to bring the entire swarm down upon oneself.

Hermione was just considering the probable success rate of attempting to surrender peacefully when suddenly, out of nowhere, the kunoichi she had been trying to save appeared beside her. Hermione jumped and stiffened, but before she could protest the woman had laid a hand on her arm and she found herself in an unfamiliar place.

"Where-" she started to ask, then fell silent as the woman hushed her.

Briefly, she considered the merits of continuing to attempt to talk. Her mother always had said that curiosity would be her downfall. It was the look of intense concentration on the other woman's face finally made up her mind, reminding her of just where she was and what kind of person she was with. Just because the kunoichi had been kind so far didn't mean she would continue to be, especially if she thought that Hermione might end up causing her own fall. Better to gather what information she could through observation, and save her questions for a more appropriate time and place.

Hermione's initial observation was that they appeared to be in a cave. Her secondary observation was that there was far too much light here for a traditional cave. Intrigued, she realized after a moment that the lichen that grew thick over the cave walls was the source of the light. Which begged the question, what else lived here that would need the light in order to see its surroundings? Feeling a little uneasy, she took a closer look around, but the cave appeared to be empty.

Well, except for the woman who had brought her here in the first place. Hermione supposed it was inevitable that her attention return to this person who had held it so firmly since Hermione had first caught sight of her. Up close, she was even smaller than she had appeared from a distance, quite a few centimeters shorter than Hermione herself. Her features were delicate, framed by a gorgeous flow of dark hair. Her only flaw was the bulging veins that marred the area around her eyes, outward evidence of whatever bloodline limit made her fighting style so deadly. Her hitaiate identified her as a kunoichi from Konoha, one of the big Hidden Villages, but one that had taken some knocks in recent days. That was presumably why she and her comrades had taken such a perilous job. It was pretty common knowledge that Konoha was in dire need of whatever money they could get, and so had relaxed their comparatively strict standards enough to allow for a wider variety of missions. It seemed that they might have underestimated the difficulty of this particular mission, however.

"They haven't located us yet," the woman said suddenly, her voice a whisper that was quickly swallowed by the lichen that lined the cave. "You should stay here and hide while I-"

"No," Hermione said. "I won't hide."

"B-But you are not a ninja," the woman said, a slight stutter making its way into her speech.

"That doesn't mean I can't fight," Hermione said stoutly. Perhaps it was unwise, but something in her simply couldn't allow this woman to go back into that fight alone. "Still," she conceded, "it would probably be best if you left me in a somewhat hidden position. My attacks would be more effective with the element of surprise behind them."

The woman looked like she was going to argue more, but surprisingly did not. Instead, she simply nodded. "T-Take my hand," she instructed.

Hermione took the outstretched hand, and stubbornly did not blink as the world blurred and then disappeared, only to reappear with alarming clarity. The woman lingered just long enough to ensure that she maintained her balance – in a tree, of all things – and then was gone, appearing as if by magic in the middle of a group of the enemy. Hermione watched for a moment as she cleared a space around herself with the same grace she had shown previously. Then, shaking her head, she put her mind to what she could do to help.

Confundo, she decided, should be her surprise attack of choice. No longer rattled by the chaos of the battlefield, she quickly picked a promising target and fired off the charm, watching with satisfaction as the enemy turned on his allies, cutting several down before they caught on and took him out. Turning, she picked another target in the opposite direction, hoping to stave off the realization that this was caused by an outside force for as long as possible.

Again, her target only managed to cause a little physical damage before being killed by his former allies, but it was clear that her attacks were making the enemy uneasy. Men were glancing sideways at men they previously hadn't spared a second glance for. There was an air of suspicion spreading throughout the battlefield.

Meanwhile, the woman seemed to have stepped up her battle technique. Now, instead of just sending enemies flying, she was leaving red marks and cries of pain behind her as she whirled faster and faster. Hermione watched for a moment, transfixed, then chose another target for confundo. She grimly watched the results of her work, then surveyed the battlefield.

The enemy was thinning out, she realized with muted pleasure, and she was now able to see that she and the woman were not the only fighters on the field. Off to the right, she was able to spot a large dark mass of...something, enveloping enemies left and right, while somewhere behind her, the sound of a dog barking could be heard. Suddenly feeling a bit of hope in what had previously seemed to be a hopeless situation, she picked two new targets, one in each direction.

This, it seemed was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak, as between one instant and the next, the thinning enemy became the fleeing enemy. Hermione's heart lifted as she watched the men turn and run, leaving just three human figures standing on the field.

Relieved, Hermione relaxed a little too much and wavered as her balance got lost somewhere between her brain and the rest of her body. She had a moment to think about the irony of surviving that battle only to die by falling from a tree, and then the woman was there again, not even bothering to steady her, just moving them both out of it, just like she had before, and oh, what Hermione wouldn't give to know how the other woman moved like that. Ninja were fascinating, but so close-mouthed that she hadn't been able to get any information about the mechanics of things out of them.

Repressing the million questions that were trying to fight their way from her brain to her mouth, she simply said, "Thank you."

The other woman shook her head, and for the first time Hermione noticed that the bulging veins at her eyes were gone, leaving just eerily pale irises behind. "No, thank you," the woman said. "Your help was greatly appreciated."

"Hinata!" one of the men called, all wild hair and tattooed face, with a dog as big as he was trailing behind. "We've got to go; the Hokage said to report back immediately."

Hinata nodded, automatically started to turn. However, she stopped mid-turn, and turned back to Hermione. "Here," she said. "Let me help you with that." She gestured at Hermione's arm, where a cut that she didn't even know how she'd gotten was dripping blood.

Hermione considered telling her just to go, to not worry about it. She could, after all, heal it herself. Then she considered all the dead-ends and failures that she'd encountered since coming to the Hidden Continent. It would be all right, she decided, if she was selfish, just this once. Heart pounding in her throat, she extended her arm.

Hinata's fingers brushed over the cut, the ghost of a touch. Focus froze her face into a sculpture. The area tingled momentarily, alternating between hot and cold. Then the feeling faded, and as quickly as that, it was over. Hinata was turning away, making her way toward the two waiting men. Hermione touched the area where the cut had once been, now perfectly healed, with not even a scar to show.

She watched as the three ninja began to run. On her arm, the feel of ghostly fingers lingered. Behind her eyes, a slim figure danced with death. In her heart, longing blossomed. In her head, she decided on her next step. Konoha might be one of the infamous Hidden Villages, but Hermione was the brightest witch of her generation, and she was going to find it, if it was the last thing she did.


End file.
